


My Angel Cometh

by TrashcanWren



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Archangels, F/M, Fallen Angels, Preachers, Redeemed Ben Solo, Religion, Religious Humor, Sinners, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wing Kink, public fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashcanWren/pseuds/TrashcanWren
Summary: Ben is the wild, prodigal son of a preacher, who has been living in debauchery. Rey is an angel sent to bring him back to the light.A prompt fic for House Dadam's Easter / Spring collection.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyJediLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife/gifts), [HouseDadam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseDadam/gifts).



> This is a prompt fic for the lovely people over at House Dadam.
> 
> Author Warning: This is consciously, purposely irreverent and potentially debauched.

 

Rey tries to calm her mind, and not fidget, but it’s a difficult task. Her fingers twitch and pull at her robes, and her feathered wings shiver as though in a chill breeze.

It isn’t easy to stay calm when one is summoned by an Archangel with no indication of why. What has she done that’s bad enough to warrant this? Rey knows she isn’t the ideal angel - her mind flits from one thing to the other, and she has a constant yearning to descend to the mortal plane and just  _ people-watch. _ Mortals lead just  _ interesting _ lives, constantly zipping from here to there and then again, and they  _ do _ things that make her feathers flutter. She knows she shouldn’t be getting seduced by mortals conducting themselves in sinful ways, but Rey can’t help it.

Angels, by contrast, seem to lead a much more  _ beige _ existence - that’s a term she’d picked up from one of the female mortals she once watched. It seems to encapsulate everything she feels about the whole business. To the point Rey isn’t quite sure how she, who has been created as an angel,  _ could _ have such a restive nature. It doesn’t seem congruous with the host around her.

The door behind her finally opens, and a melodious voice calls out, “Enter, Rey.”

Closing the door behind her, Rey turns to face the Archangel, squinting hard against the bright light of the aura surrounding the other occupant of the room.

“Is this better?”

The light dims and then fades, leaving Rey blinking at the tall, willowy woman who sits behind a surprisingly mundane-looking desk, her curly hair a purple halo around her. The room is styled like what the people down on Earth call a library or a smoking room - all wood panels and dark fabric covered armchairs. One of which the Archangel waves a hand towards.

“Come, sit down, Rey. Make yourself comfortable.”

As she lowers herself into the chair, unable to quell a beat of trepidation, Rey watches as her summoner draws what looked like a slim folder towards her.

“There’s no need to be nervous, child, you aren’t in any trouble.”

“Oh, Thank God! I mean…” Rey peters off, mortified at the slip, “Sorry, Archangel...ma’am.”

“Call me Holdo, please. I can’t stand the formality of the titles!”

As Rey digests this invitation to be informal, not quite sure what to do with it, Holdo flips open the folder and lifts what looks like a Polaroid photograph. As she looks at it, a sad expression crosses her face.

“I have a mission for you, Rey. One that may prove challenging and yet, from everything I hear, you may be just the angel for the job.” Holdo proffers the photo to Rey, motioning for her to take it.

Taking the Polaroid, Rey looks at a slightly blurred capture of who, at first look, is the Dark Angel himself. Until she really focuses on the contents and realizes that it is a mortal man. It was a mistake to think such a thing, but who could blame her given his build, his bearing, the dark, raven hair, and the achingly handsome face?  Aware that she should not be having thoughts about his ruby-red, pouting mouth while in the presence of Higher Powers, Rey tears her attention back to Holdo only to find her watching with a knowing look.

“Good looking boy, isn’t he?”

Rey isn’t sure angels are supposed to smirk that way. 

“Um, er… I suppose for a mortal…”

“Relax, child. I know how good looking he is, but don’t let the pretty eyes fool you. He’s in a world of trouble and needs a keeper. That’s where you come in. I’m sending you in as his Guardian Angel.”

“What?” Rey isn’t sure she’d heard right. Guardian Angel duties aren’t lightly handed out. An angel needs to be so morally good, strong, calm, and everything she knows she struggles to be.

Clearly reading her mind, Holdo quirks an eyebrow, “If that had worked to keep Ben on the straight and narrow, I wouldn’t need to resort to extreme measures.”

“Ben?”

Holdo nods towards the photo that Rey still holds, “Ben Solo. The son of Father Han Solo. And what is not widely known is that his mother was an angel. The boy leads quite a… colorful life, for a variety of reasons that you’ll find in this folder. However, the rate at which he’s going, he’s headed for self-destruction, and we can’t allow that. Not for the son of one of our own. ”

Rey’s jaw drops. She thought the whole thing about angels and mortals and the resulting fall from Heaven was just a cautionary tale for juvenile angels whose wings were still moulting!

_ Apparently not. _

Rey feels a thrill of excitement at the thought, completely inappropriate as she well knows, but one she cannot suppress nonetheless.

And now she is to meet an angelic offspring, a Nephilim, in the flesh.

___  
  


The rays of sunlight stubbornly make their way past the blinds and hit the sleeping man in the face, making him groan and roll over to bury his face in the pillow. The movement proves to be an unwise one for the next minute he is lurching out of bed and into the bathroom where he throws up noisily.

Coming back into the bedroom, bleary-eyed and with his mouth tasting like dust, Kylo surveys the bed, not too surprised to find it empty. Whoever he’s brought back here in the early hours of the morning has apparently found her own way out, thankfully. As much as he enjoys the sex, no matter who the woman, he does not enjoy waking up to expectations and clinginess.

As he hovers undecided whether to try and go back to sleep or actual work the hangover off, his phone dings with a series of messages. Flipping through them quickly, Kylo sees several from his mates, telling him they’ll be at the club that night. The one he sees from his father  makes his mouth tighten in pain, and he chooses to ignore it just as he does with everything that involves his father. He tosses the phone on the bed in frustration - speaking of expectations and not meeting them.

Sleep having been banished against his will, a disgruntled Kylo subjects himself to a shower, first scalding hot and then as freezing cold as he can take it. Palm pressed against the wet tiles, he hangs his head and stands under the pounding spray that pummels his body. He imagines the sluicing water washing away the realities he does not want to face. It's best not to let himself think on things too much; it’s better to let himself go numb. And Kylo’s very good at that.

Later that night, he rolls up to the First Order Club, his energy high and headaches banished, ready to face a night of drinking, dancing, maybe more. The pulsing music and seething bodies surrounding him do much to distance Kylo from everything beyond the present; the whiskey flowing through his veins lights him up from the inside as he loses himself to the night.

Until he sees her - she isn't dancing,  nor drinking for that matter. Instead, she's looking for someone, scanning the crowd intently while biting her lip with pearl-like teeth. He can't see what she's wearing because something is making it hard to focus on her. When he tries to look, he feels blinded. She must be standing near one of the laser lights, he reasons fuzzily. Kylo does see the moment her eyes land on him and widen. He could swear he sees them darken, but that would be ridiculous in the dim lighting of the nightclub.

Before he knows it, he's standing in front of her, and she's staring up at him. When he is this close, he sees she's wearing a short, shimmery dress. For some reason, it reminds him of a nun's habit, though no nun ever looked like this or showed as much skin.

White Vodka. Or A White Lady. That's what she reminds him of.

She's saying something, but he can't hear it. Kylo leans in, getting right in her space, his lips a hair’s breadth from her ear. “I can’t hear anything in all this noise - want to get out of here?”

The woman in white gives him a startled look, before nodding. Determination soon takes over her features. It’s Kylo’s turn to be surprised when she takes his hand in hers and makes for the exit, dragging him in her wake.

She’s going the long way though, and Kylo needs to hear her voice... now. Right now. He doesn’t know why, only that the small hand wrapped around his larger one is making him burn like never before. Slowing till she is forced to halt, he points to the nondescript side exit and takes her that way.

Shutting the door immediately cuts the sounds that throbbed through the club, leaving them standing in relative silence in the darkness of the alley. She’s taking in her surroundings with a slight frown, turning to face Kylo as he lounges against the brick wall, watching her from under dark brows. They’re still holding hands, and neither seems ready to let go.

Kylo takes advantage of that and draws her towards him until there are only a few inches distance between them. There’s an energy humming between them, and he knows the hunger that must be showing on his face. But she -  _ she’s _ looking at him like he’s some sort of a puzzle that she’s trying to figure out. No matter, she can do the puzzling while she’s horizontal just as well, he thinks to himself. He tightens his hold to close the gap when she opens her mouth and drops a bomb on him.

“You’re Ben Solo, are you not?”

Kylo drops her hand as though it’s burning him.

_ Ben Solo _ . A name he’s walked away from years ago and one that continues to try and take over if he will only permit it.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hell  _ certainly _ has nothing to do with it!” She’s frowning now, arms crossed and looking at him like he’s done something very wrong.

“What?”

“Listen, I know it may be tough for you to process, in your current state, but I work for the other side. And it's now  _ my _ job to make sure you make it through with your soul and skin intact.”

She's not making any sense, but before Kylo can say anything her head snaps around at the sound of a series of sharp, explosive sounds. He dimly recognizes a car backfiring, but the next moment, she's shoving Kylo behind her and leaping forward in a battle-ready crouch, covering him.

With wings.

Huge, white, feathered wings.

_ Wings. _

There's a thought that's furiously working its way to the front of his brain, but he refuses to consider it. Otherwise, everything about his life till now would have been a lie. A complete  _ waste _ .

The idea of that makes him so unbearably angry that he strides forward, grabbing her arm to turn her, brushing against the feathers as he does. With a shudder and a gasp she whips around, a hand out to splay against his chest. She's looking at him with wide eyes that darken as her pupils expand; a pulse is beating furiously at the base of her throat.

Kylo's eyes are drawn to that, his anger forgotten as he watches a flush spread across her neck and chest, as much as is visible to him. He wonders how far down the flush possibly goes not realising that he’s drawing her even closer till she's plastered against him, the splayed hand notwithstanding.

He needs to touch her, but rather than feeling the rosy expanse of her skin, he strokes the tips of her feathers, making her gasp again. She's breathing audibly harder, and her eyes are fully blown to black - this is a look he knows, understands. Shock. Want. Need.

He does it again. And then again, till he loses count of how many times he's fingered the soft, white tips or smoothed his hand down the wing. All he knows is that each time he does, she's shuddering and quivering until she's clutching at him to stay upright, her fingers twisted in his shirt. He can tell she's approaching the edge, rapidly, and he needs to see her fall off it. So he takes a hold of her waist as he grasps a feather and just  _ rubs _ .

And then she's jerking against him, moaning as her head falls back and exposes her throat to him. It’s an invitation Kylo's not slow to take, dragging his full lips over her neck as she strains on her tiptoes.

When she collapses against him, she's trembling violently, far more than she should descending from an orgasm. For that's what Kylo's sure she's just had, coming  _ just _ from him fingering her wings.

Tightening his hold on her, he tips her chin back to look at her only to see tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes shut in a now-ashen face. She's slowly becoming a dead weight and a suddenly worried Kylo is forced to lower her to the ground, and he holds her propped against his chest. Her wings trail on the ground limply, and, as he watches, they turn translucent before completely disappearing from sight.

A wail that can only be called tortured rips from the nameless woman's throat before she slips into a dead faint in his arms.

  
___

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [kaybohls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybohls/pseuds/kaybohls) for the lovely moodboard! 
> 
> 💙💙 [3todream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3todream3/pseuds/3todream3) and [MyJediLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife) for betaing!

 

Rey opens hers eyes with a snap, trying to banish the dreadful dream - no, nightmare! - she's just had. Even the mere thought that she might lose her wings - Rey shudders, thankful it was just a disturbing dream to put behind her.

Speaking of putting behind her, she frowns. She's missing a familiar weight against her back, one that should always be there even if invisible. With a flash of trepidation, Rey rears up and snaps a hand behind her to feel for… _there's nothing there - her wings are gone!_

The wail that splits the air is her own, Rey thinks, feeling disassociated from her own body. There's a tugging in her chest and then she's floating above herself, looking down. At her human-looking body that slips back onto the bed, eyes closed, limbs loose.

She watches as a giant of a man bursts into the room, presumably in response to the wailing, and hops onto the bed as he tries to shake her awake.

_Him. He did this to her. Every bit of it._

She wants to kick, scream, curse, but knows she isn't supposed to devolve to such human levels. And yet, wasn't it such a devolution that left her where she is, wingless, fallen and unable to rise?

_Alive,_ her traitorous mind whispers _._

“What did you do to me?” Rey hisses at him, her teeth gritted and yet, tears springing from her eyes, her upheaval running through her like molten lava.

Of course, he can't hear her and he's frantic as he tries to pat her cheeks, feel for a pulse, horror growing on his face as his drops her wrist and clutches at his hair.

Wait, is she _dead_?

“Not dead, but it's hard for a body to remain animated when the soul's floating meters above it, don't you think?” Holdo materialises next to her, with a wry smile. “You've certainly worked fast my girl.”

“This is not… I didn't mean for… he _did_ something and I couldn't…” Rey blusters as she tries to explain herself, and fails to make any sense. Tears trickle down her cheeks in her misery.

“Ok, I need you to pull yourself together Rey, I thought you were made of sterner stuff.” If Holdo's foot could tap, Rey is sure it would. “Did you go in harder than I expected? Yes. Is it the end of the world? No.”

“It isn't?” She raises watery eyes to the Archangel.

“Rey, daughter, you've just had a very powerful reaction to a Nephilim's touch. I did not expect this, but it _has_ been known to happen. It just means you and Ben are far more attuned to each other than any other being.” Holdo pauses and takes in Rey's state and casts an eye down at the distraught man below them, holding onto a seemingly lifeless body. “It appears you did manage to break through his ennui to some level atleast. Let's see how far this goes. May the Lord be with you, Rey.”

“Wait!” Rey throws her hand out as Holdo starts to shimmer and fade from sight. “My wings! They're gone, I can't feel them anymore.”

“Ah, daughter, there is always a price to be paid even if the mistake is not your own doing.” There is a tinge of sadness in Holdo's voice, a look in her eye that speaks of thoughts turned elsewhere, “Do not despair, walk the path you've been given, complete your mission.”

With that, Holdo winks out of sight. Then, with a great rushing feeling Rey is sucked back into her form. As she draws a deep breath and opens her eyes, she realises she's forgotten all about said form being held. By _him_.

For a moment of suspended time they stare at each other, hazel and amber eyes drowning in one another. Then, all of a sudden she's aware of how closely she's being held in his arms, unable to ignore how firm and strong they feel, warm where his hand rests against the nape of her neck.

She gulps, trying to hold on to the tatters of her composure, her tailspin from Holdo's pronouncement threatening to overwhelm her.

“You're alive, thank god!”

Rey focuses on the desperation in him, the relief that is blatant. An irrational anger sparks in her, her confused emotions needing the outlet.

“I may as well be dead!” She glares at him, the heat giving strength to her voice. “My wings are gone!”

He stills, though his fingers flex against her skin, leaving little tendrils of awareness wherever they touch her. Easing back a shade he looks her in the eye, and he is now the one to gulp nervously.

“So, those were all real? Big, white, soft?”

“Of course they were real!”

If anything he looks like he's seen a ghost and there’s a thread of fear in his voice as he asks, “What… who are you?”

Despite her own anger at the situation, Rey can't help but feel concerned for the abrupt change in him. It softens her answer to his question, “I'm your guardian angel.”

The colour leeches out of his face and he closes his eyes, looking like he's going to keel over. Worried now, and recalled to the fact that she is indeed his guardian, Rey grabs his shoulders to steady him.

“Are you alright?”

_Why in Heaven was she whispering?_

“No, no I'm not. This can't be possible. This makes everything, _everything_ a lie.” She shouldn't be affected by the anguish in his voice. But then, maybe a good angel should, and find a way to spare him the pain.

Rey does the only thing she can think of and cups his face in her hands. At her touch his eyes pop open, instantly darkening as his pupils dilate, clearly signaling more than just distress.

His nostrils flare, and he leans in close, pinning her with his stare.

“What are you doing to me?” He asks hoarsely, as he covers one of her hands with his, holding it against his cheek.

Mutely she shakes her head; she has no more idea than he does. Only - only, the feel of his skin against hers - Holdo had said his touch was affecting her. Perhaps he was experiencing the same.

A part of her that Rey has long tried to suppress gleefully comes to life, taking over, ruling her limbs as the more sane voice in her head is regaled to a corner. She can no longer stop herself stroking her thumbs over his cheekbones than she can the Sun rising every morning.

With a groan he turns his lips to her palm, pressing a kiss there that is chaste in form but not in the fire it sends down her veins.

“How is this possible? I've never felt this way before.” He's nipping at the flesh of her palm before sucking it into his mouth to sooth. “I can't stop touching you. The things I want to do to you. And you shouldn't even be real!”

Again that thread of pain - _what in Heaven happened to him? And why is she feeling so compelled to bring him some peace, somehow, anyhow?_

“I'm very real.” She slips a hand up to comb his luxurious hair back, letting her fingers rake against his scalp. Shuddering, he lets go of her hand to haul her right up against him, holding her to him with an arm like a steel band. The other hand is ghosting over her spine, stroking across her back.

When his fingers brush over her shoulder blades, Rey cannot stop the jolt that curls her toes and arcs her over his arm. He fingers the length alongside her spine where her wings would have emerged, and she feels a familiar coiling in her core, a thumping in her veins that speaks of _need_.

“B-Ben!” it's a warning, a plea, asking him to stop, to keep going - she isn't quite sure, only that this feels inevitable.

This time, though, she needs more than to just passively feel. She needs him. To touch him, taste him, to… her mind skitters away from the thought of more. She mustn't, she shouldn't - but she can't stop.

Fisting his hair, Rey yanks him in the last few inches and presses her lips to his.

\--

There's a moment in time when you realize you've found the most perfect thing, the most perfect person. It shouldn't have been when he was having the most artless kiss in his life - and he'd kissed a _lot_ of women, and some men, even - however Kylo can think of nowhere he'd rather be than right there, right then, kissing his angel for what must be the very first time in her immortal life.

The way she clings to him, presses against him, her little hands tugging on his hair, it's enough to make him ready to explode. But he can't, not yet, not just yet. His hands instinctively go to where he knows she needs to feel him, stroking against the silver scars alongside her shoulder blades. As she gasps his name, his tongue slips into her mouth, filling her, sliding against her own.

She gives as good as she gets, learning quickly, winding him up even more as she sups from his lips like her life depended on it. In a frenzy she pulls against his shirt, silently demanding it's removal, her fingers slipping and failing to open the buttons. He quickly pulls them open and lets her have her way as she pushes the shirt off his shoulders. Flattening her palms against his chest, she pulls away from his kiss to look down at him incredulously, her fingers unconsciously petting him with butterfly touches.

“Ben…” she whispers as she watches her hands stroking over him, over his abdomen, down, down, stopping short of where he really wants to feel her.

_Ben_.

The name he's run from all these years, but which feels so right when she says it. The only name he wants to hear spilling from her as he does as well. In that moment, he can't imagine being anyone else.

She lightly runs her thumb over the trail of dark hair leading down into his pants, fairly igniting him as she does.

Gently, he stops her, bringing her hand up to press a kiss against it as he holds her eyes. They are luminous, wide, filled with a light that he yearns for. It feels like she is the lamp and he, a creature of darkness inexorably drawn to her flame.

But he doesn't want to think about the darkness he's immersed himself in all these years, the debauchery he's given free rein to.

Now, here, he wants to be made whole, clean again. He wants her light to wash over him, ridding his soul of every spot, every blemish. He wants to make her burn for him as fiercely as he does for her.

And yet, _yet_ \- he wants to make slow, sweet love to her, show her the beauty there can be in a joining of two bodies, two souls.

He reaches for the thin straps of her dress and starts to slip them from her shoulders when she freezes, her eyes like a deer's in headlights. Slowly, mutely, she shakes her head.

No matter how much his baser instincts are screaming at him to keep going, he doesn't. Instead he smooths the straps back on - he understands, he thinks.

\--

Her eyes fill, and spill over as she realizes he isn't going to push things. Gently , he draws her close, tucking her under his chin and just holding her while she struggles to sort herself out.

She can hear how fast his heart is racing, feel the pounding as her cheek presses against his skin. She knows he's atleast as affected as she is, but he's willing to stop. _For_ _her_. Somehow that isn't what she would have expected, not after everything she's read about him and how he lives his life. Kylo Ren - _Ben Solo_ \-  is known for taking what he wants and draining the cup to the last dregs.

As he smooths a hand over her hair, as tender as can be, she whispers against his tear-dampened skin, “I'm sorry, I can't - I can't lose any more. I don't know what to do.”

He is silent for a moment before he sighs and presses a kiss to her head.

Leaning back, he pulls a phone out of his back pocket and dials. Holding the phone to his ear, Ben waits for the call to connect. When it does, his eyes close, hiding the pain in them.

“Dad?”

 

___


	3. Chapter 3

 

It’s been nearly 5 years since he'd last spoken to his father. He'd done everything in his power to push away from the lies. To push away from the pain of being lied to, to go as far away as he can from everything Han stands for. 

Except. 

It looks like it _wasn't_ all lies. 

Kylo holds the phone to his ear as he paces in his living room, casting an eye to the closed bedroom door. He'd needed some space to think and talk to Han, to come up with a plan. 

“Right, that might be the best - I'll bring her to you and we'll, I guess, go from there.”

He nods at whatever his father says to him and then pauses, fighting the instinct to mash the red button. 

“Dad?” His voice is low, “I'm… all this time…” Kylo breaks off as Han interrupts him, and he finally listens to his father for the first time in his life. 

As he disconnects the call, he stands for a moment and stares at the phone in his hand, Han's words echoing in his ears. _It's ok, kid. Just come home._

Just like that. After everything he's done. 

The door opens and then she is standing there, looking about as lost as he's feeling. He realizes he doesn't even know her _name_. Not that it stops him from feeling that confusing pulse of both want and more. 

Now, something else stirs inside him.

_Concern_. 

He's never felt concern for anyone he's brought home. Not that this is anything like a typical tryst. Nonetheless, he's never cared, and something about this woman, this… _angel_ , is stirring up feelings he's never allowed himself. Making him care for someone other than himself

Pocketing his phone, he crosses to her, about to take her hand when she pulls hers back. It hurts to see her draw away from him, but he doesn't want her to see that he cares. He smooths his face into a benign mask and asks, “Are you feeling better?”

She gives him a blank look, starts to shake her head before she stops and nods instead. "I… think so? It's not exactly something you can prepare for." Her eyes flick up to his and then away, and she crosses her arms around herself, hugging her elbows.

Kylo steps back a pace, even though every instinct is telling him to go closer, to hold her, soothe her. He can see that isn't what she wants. Instead, he walks over to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder as he does, "Would you like something to eat? Or maybe some coffee?"

Then, pausing mid stride, he turns towards her with a quizzical look. " _Do_ you get hungry? I don't really know…"

As though in response, her stomach growls, and Rey drops her hands to look down at herself, horror-tinged curiosity painting her face.

"Well, then. I guess you do." Kylo cocks an eyebrow as he smiles faintly at the rather vocal reminder she's received of being corporeal.

As he puts the coffee on to brew and pulls the makings for an omelette out of the 'fridge, he watches out the corner of his eye as Rey slowly enters the area, her head swivelling to take in everything. 

First she perches on a stool by the breakfast bar, watching with increasing interest as Kylo preps the ingredients, her eyes widening, head rotating unconsciously in time with his beating the eggs. When he pulls the knife out and starts chopping the shallots, she gasps and leans forward across the counter, eyes riveted on the fast-moving blade. Kylo's never been more proud of his knife skills than in that moment, even if the sight of the enthralled angel sends a pang through him. His mother taught him how to cook, how to wield the instruments of the kitchen like the warrior she'd been. 

He almost stops his movements as the memory of her overwhelms him - it never fails to rip through him as he thinks about his mother just leaving them, leaving _him_ . The rage, the loss, the betrayal he'd felt, _still feels,_ threaten to rush in and take him over like so many, many times before. Except now, he has to accept the possibility that he may have been wrong about what happened - that everything his father had said might actually have been true.

Angels. Walking among them. And one sitting right in his kitchen, watching him with parted lips and wide eyes. Lord have mercy on his soul.

To keep from spiralling with dark thoughts, Kylo decides to fill Rey in on the call he'd just finished.

"So, after you eat and maybe freshen up, I'm going to take you over to meet my father." Busy sweeping the chopped veggies into the eggs, Kylo misses the way Rey freezes till he looks back up to see her staring at him, the lines of her body tense.

He frowns before he realizes what he's just said and quickly shakes his head as he clarifies. "No, no, not like a meet-the-parents thing! Han, my father, he's a pastor. He'll be able to help us understand what's happened and what to do next."

She visibly relaxes and nods, her face clearing as she does, before muttering cryptically, “That’s right, I remember now.”

Then she tilts her head as she watches him season the omelette mix. "Us?"

Setting a pan on the stove and testing the heat, Kylo uses the moment to think about that. Surprising as it was, he does feel the need to make sure that she was alright, taken care of. Very unlike anything he's ever felt for a woman before. Then, of course, none of them have ever been an angel. _His_ angel, if he remembers what she said correctly.

He glances at her over his shoulder before confirming, "Us."

Melting the butter, Kylo pours the eggs into the pan and waits as they cook, the delightful aroma reminding him that he too could stand to eat. As he reaches out to pick up the spatula, he startles as his hand brushes against Rey's warmth, a feeling like electricity shooting up his arm . She's left the counter and is standing close to him, her hands behind her back as she leans towards the pan, her eyes closed and nostrils flaring. At Kylo's touch, her eyes pop open, and she takes a sharp breath. 

Kylo swallows hard at the sight of the blush blooming across her face, and nonchalantly shifts to curl his hand around the spatula. 

As he slips it around the edges of the omelette, he feels Rey edge closer till she's peering past his shoulder, his entire side tingling with the heat of her proximity.

"That is the most amazing thing I've ever smelt," she breathes the words, awe tinging them, "What _is_ that?"

Turning the heat off, Kylo gently lifts the pan to the side before looking down at Rey who's inched even closer, if that's possible. Her head slowly turns, her gaze shifting from the food to his face till it catches on his lips, lingering there while her own part. And then, she's plastered against his side, seemingly drawn inexorably to Kylo, one hand curling around his bicep as she leans up and into him.

Suddenly, Kylo is hungry for something other than food, but he quells the impulse to wrap himself around her and kiss her senseless and more. There's no way Rey knows what she's doing, going by the dazed look on her face. Instinctively, he knows if he touches her now, they're going to start something he won't have the strength to stop himself from finishing. 

"Rey?" His voice sounds hoarse, unused, and it's all he can do to keep talking as she hums in response, "Why don't you go sit down and I'll put this on a plate for you? It's best to eat while it's hot."

He watches as the glaze slowly drains out of her eyes, holding himself stock-still the whole time. Rey looks from him to the frying pan, and then down to where she's burrowing into his side. With an audible gulp she peels herself off of Kylo and stumbles back, face flaming. 

Pretending like he doesn't see it, Kylo bends away, letting his hair fall forward to obscure his view as he pulls out tableware from the cabinets and plates up for the both of them. By the time he turns to the breakfast counter, she's back behind it, arms crossed against herself, seemingly in control. 

He sets the food and flatware in front of her, and pulls up the other stool to settle himself. She watches closely, as he uses the fork and knife to cut a bite, before picking up her own set and mirroring him. The look of wonder that blooms, as she tastes food for the very first time, arrests him, making Kylo stop and watch as she slowly chews and swallows. 

Rey looks down at the omelette on her plate and back up at him, asking bemusedly, "Does _all_ food taste so good? What _is_ this?" Then, not waiting for an answer, she powers through the rest of it and sits back, licking at her lips and staring down at the now empty plate with a slightly mournful air.

Kylo gently nudges his plate forward and nods at it. "Would you like some more?"

The look she gives him makes him want to offer her every bite of food there is in the apartment and then raid all the neighbours and the county, just so he can bask in it forever. He'll feed his angel whatever she wants, whenever she wants, if she'll look at him like that every day of the rest of his life.

In a trance, he pushes his plate all the way over and watches as she licks her lips before smiling her thanks. When the first morsel of his omelette is in her mouth, she closes her eyes and moans around the fork, an act that convinces every drop of blood in Kylo's body that it's a bird and it's now deep winter. Lightheaded from the sudden southerly rush, he grips the table tightly and shakes himself from his trance.

If Rey keeps making such sounds while she eats, he knows he's never going to survive with any shred of dignity and will instead come in his pants like a callow teenager - he needs to distract them both from the seemingly orgasmic food.

Loudly clearing his throat, he crosses his arms and leans forward as he asks, "So, what exactly is it that you're here for? You said earlier that you were my guardian angel? That your job was to keep my soul and skin intact? What does that mean?"

Rey swallows the bite, barely able to take her eyes off the plate as she answers Kylo, "Exactly that, I'm your guardian angel. It's my job to make sure that you are okay, physically, mentally, spiritually. And you haven't been." She shrugs, flicking a look up at him before focusing on the food she's cutting.

Kylo blinks - somehow he hasn't expected her to be that matter of fact. Even if the whole subject of angels is a highly surreal one at the moment. Still, he supposes it's time he completely catches up to it, since surreal is currently devouring his omelette. 

"Why?"

She furrows her brow and cocks her head at him in confusion. "What do you mean, why?"

He leans forward, elbows on the table as he pins her with an intent gaze. "Why now? What made you appear? Have you been here all along, and I've just never known? Why didn't you show yourself all the times when I've been on my own, going through shit?" Surprising even himself, the questions pour out and he realizes just how much he wants to know, _needs_ to know. If she's always been there the whole time, and just been _watching_ while he…

"Hey," her soft call breaks through his spiral as she drops the fork and focuses on him. "I was assigned to you yesterday, when you saw me at the club. If I had been there before, I would _not_ have let you go through things alone."  

Her words are earnest as she reaches across the table to lay a hand against his arm. Kylo can't help the images that buffet his mind at her touch as he thinks of not being alone  anymore and of having her with him, of… _having_ her. It's clear that some of the same thoughts are spinning through her mind as she suddenly flushes, pulling her hand back and spending the next few moments being extremely interested in her food. Even more so than before.

Somehow, he knows if they don't keep moving, he's going to have his hands back on her. Clearing his throat, Kylo pushes back from the table as he quickly stands. "I… let's talk about it when we get to my dad's. Save you having to repeat yourself."

"Go ahead and finish eating, I'm just… going to grab a few things we'll need." Nodding at her plate, he backs away, before turning and fleeing the kitchen.

  


***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Love to:
> 
> [kaybohls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybohls/pseuds/kaybohls) for the beyoootiful moodie! 💙
> 
> [3todream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3todream3/pseuds/3todream3) and [MyJediLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife) for betaing this! 💙

**Author's Note:**

> To my lovely alphas and betas, thank you and I only wish we had omegas to round it out!


End file.
